Picture Unperfect
by Rising Nightengale
Summary: Harry struggles to cope with the sudden transformation of his old professor he'd befriended, Severus Snape. Why has this change occurred in the professor? Why has the picture changed? Why is it unperfect? Snarry.
1. Do You Remember?

Hello! I felt like starting a second Snarry story, more serious than Papa, Who's Mama? But I hope you like it nonetheless. I'm sorry if it's a bit confusing. If you have any questions, comments or concerns feel free to message me, or if you're reviewing, place it in with your review. Nothing, except the plot, is mine. It's all property of J.K Rowling. Thank you very much for reading!

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**Picture Unperfect Chapter 1:**

"**D**o you remember?" I inquire, my eyes glazed over with curiosity and…probably a tint of sadness? Yes, sadness would be there.

Your right black eyebrow arches, creating a ripple in that stern look this you always seems to be shrouded in. "Care to be more specific in your questions, Potter?"

I smirk. This you still has your voice. The voice that reminds me of winter. Pure, beautiful, white sound that is often mistaken for frozen and cold. "Do you remember?" I repeat again, my voice hiding my secret amusement with a neutral tone as I watch your mouth twitch, suppressing a hiss or snarl. Probably a snarl. This you tends not to hiss as much as you did.

"Potter, I can't answer such vague questions. It's childish to think I'd know specifically which of my memories I'm supposed to recall by simply repeating "Do you remember?" is it not?" This you fails at hiding anger, he can't have the neutrality you had strived so hard to achieve. He often reminds me of how you used to be. When our individual roads first collided and formed one. When your eyes couldn't see me clearly; fogged by old memories of someone who looked like me. I chuckle a bit. You were the one whom was in need of glasses back then, not me.

"What are you laughing at now?" He growls.

I look into the porcelain tea cup that's in my hands, idly stirring the brown tea leaves into the steaming, dyed light green water. I smile sadly, not looking at him. If I look at him my façade of neutrality will be broken, my eyes remorse would contradict my tone. And the eyes are the pathway into the soul- the pathway to truth. "He'd know." I whisper.

He paused for a minute. Thinking, probably. That's what you did whenever I said or asked something questionably small. You thought. Scanning carefully what little I said; searched the words to grasp the meaning beyond them. "I am not him." You stated clearly, almost completely matter-of-factly but with a splotch of something…sympathy?

I watch the brown tea leaves twirl, dancing in my cup. Slowly, they fall gently to the bottom. Tea leaves remind of me of my hope for this you. They started so strong, so powerful. Sympathy was not the something in his voice. It couldn't be. "I know."

"Potter, I'd prefer it if you looked at the person you're talking to." He snarled. "Have I taught you no manners over the years?"

I took in a breath and looked at him. My ivory eyes are met with a pair of onyx ones that stare me down, a snake staring down its prey, debating to leave or attack it. Your old eyes; that once haunted my nightmares.

'_Slytherin to the core Severus.'_ I smile at the thought.

"Have I or haven't I? That was a question, in case your low functioning brain couldn't conclude that much. Questions are supposed to be answered." Your winter voice is blowing its frozen winds.

"Yes, _Professor_, you've taught me manners." I frown. I hate calling him 'Professor'. Your quick, sharp tongue had always made me feel young enough as it is. Regressing back to calling you 'Professor' makes me feel as though I never even graduated from the establishment in which I now am employed.

"Then please make sure they are intact before entering my domain." He stated icily before sipping his black green tea.

"Yes, Professor." I regained my neutral posture in the silence that followed. This you has a different way of approaching these meetings. They still happen once every week, like when I met with you. But the aura around the meetings has changed completely. The meetings with you were warm. Not quite kind, you wouldn't allow kind unless absolutely necessary. But warm, comforting…simple. It seems meetings with him are so complex. Nothing can ever be warm or comforting with him because you banned yourself of such emotions when you transformed.

'_Why, Severus? Why can't we be warm, comforting and simple like we used to be?'_

Just one of the many questions you left me to answer before you left me with this you. Often, I wonder if I'm supposed to find the answers to the questions. Like a quiz of sorts, or possibly a riddle. If I answered all of the questions correctly, I'd get an 'A'. Maybe if I get an 'A', I could receive a prize. I'd ask to have one meeting with you. One completely honest meeting with you. I'd be happy if just once you let this you subside, and let things be like it used to be. Just once, is all I ask for.

'_But you wouldn't allow that would you, Severus?' _I look at you as your sipping your tea, as if to ask you telepathically.

"What is it, Potter?" He looks up at me. My eyes almost widen. Almost.

I look at the right stonewall of the dungeons. In the center of two onyx and dark green tapestries lies a silver snake and in his mouth, in between the fangs, lies a timepiece.

"It's getting late, Professor. That's all." I say dismissively.

His black eyebrows arch for the second time this evening. His head turns to the timepiece and he nods before turning his head back to me.

"So it is. We have classes tomorrow yes, Potter?" I nod and he gets up from your black leather chair and crosses the room over to me. I raise an eyebrow. He stretches out his hand.

"Oh no, I've got it, Professor." I shake my head softly, grab the porcelain teacup from his hands before taking my own. He watches as I cross his domain into the small kitchen located to the left of the sitting room. I catch a peculiar look on his face from the corner of my eye. For a minute it looks like your face. Uneasy? I shrug it off and wash the teacups by hand quickly before putting them on the wooden rack.

"I'll never comprehend why a wizard like yourself insist on doing chores manually. Surely you aren't that incapable that you don't know the simple cleaning spells?" I jump and quickly turn around to the sound of your slightly amused voice. Your face holds its normal stern position, his eyes clouded. Blocked as usual. But I'm slowly getting used to his version of your playfully teasing.

I laugh, a grin plastered to my face. "Old habits die hard." I shrug, nonchalant and reach for a towel, drying my hands.

"Insist upon what you insist upon." He rolls your eyes and resumes his place in the sitting room. I smile more. Typical Severus.

I spend a few more moments cleaning up the kitchen, before stepping into the sitting room and looking at the clock once more. I look at him. He looks like you, sitting in your chair and reading a book about potions. Sometimes I can honestly fool myself into thinking this version of you is you. I allow myself one last glance before crossing the room to the large, wooden door.

I turn my head "Goodnight, Professor."

"You never told me what I was supposed to be recalling, Potter." He says neutrally from over his book.

"Harry."

He looked up from his book, and for the third time his black eyebrows were arched questioningly. "What was that, Potter?"

"Harry." I mumble. "Do you remember when you called me Harry?"

I don't wait for an answer. I open the large, wooden door with the bronze handle and cross the various stone corridors. Sometimes, I can honestly fool myself into thinking this version o you is you. But you wouldn't allow that would you, Severus?

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Thank you very much for reading! :D Tell me if you have any questions or such, especially if you don't understand certain things.

**- Rising Nightengale**


	2. Prevented

Hello! And welcome to another chapter of Picture, Unperfect! Before we begin, I must say that I own nothing but the plot.. All of the characters, places etc belong to the wonderful, beautiful series Harry Potter that was given to us by J.K Rowling. Thank you very much! Enjoy

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**Picture Unperfect Chapter 2:**

The Owlery has to be my favorite place in the castle; third to only the Astronomy Tower and the Quidditch field. I find it a bit ironic that the Owlery is even on that list, considering what happened to Hedwig but you can't dwell on memories too much. The Owlery is quiet and peaceful. You can see a lot of the beautiful outer scenery surrounding the castle from the opened stone arches. I like coming here around noon, when the sun is at its peak, illuminating the all the vibrant flowers and crystal clear lake. It also serves as an escape from the Great Hall and the noise that's in it during lunch.

I smile, sitting on the windowpane of one of the arches, watching the students down below go inside for lunch. Some wave to me, I wave back and make ridiculous faces. My reward is their ringing laughter. I smile some more, resting my face on the smooth surface of the stone.

"While you are leisurely lying around, some of us are _working_, Potter." I perk my head and turn in the direction of your cold voice.

"I am working, _Professor_. It's lunch, you know." I inform him.

He seems to ignore the information "With those absurd faces you're making, you could have been a muggle kindergarten teacher or perhaps a muggle in kindergarten, I would have been none the wiser."

"I was just-!" I pout "Why must you take the fun out of everything?"

"It's work, Potter. Work isn't meant to be fun. And don't whine, it isn't very becoming of you." He says matter-of-factly.

I roll my eyes, getting off from my place at the windowpane to look at him. "You're just mad because you can't be a child anymore."

"I rather not degrade my intellect and experiences to that of a moronic child." He smirks

I glare back, cursing that sly smirk he stole from you. "It's not being a moronic child. It's simply living a little, _professor_." I say, forcing my voice to keep calm.

"Living is the process of going through stages of live. Birth, childhood, adolescence, adult and elderly. It goes in that order, Potter. It doesn't involve switched back and forth."

I return back to the windowpane, resting my face in my hands. And for a brief moment, I recall of memory of you from what seems like so long ago. Before you were him.

_**I **__searched the hallways carefully. Looking for any sign of students or passing teachers, before I puffed out a breath. I smiled and puffed out another, pretending to be a dragon as the white, slightly transparent, fluffy vapor disperses into the air. I stretched my arms and flew around the Owlery, enjoying the crisp, fall air filling my lungs. I laughed at my own silliness as I zipped through the corridor. And laughed harder when I realized the owls were turning their heads, silently questioning my sanity._

"_What are you doing?" I immediately dropped my wings, and turned around when the sound of your amused winter voice reached my ears. I could feel my fact heat up, as if I could actually spurt out hundred-degree fire from my mouth if I tried. I looked down at the ground, shuffling my feet nervously._

"_I was pretending to be a dragon." I mumbled._

"_I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," I could hear the playful smirk in your voice "Did I just hear you say you were pretending to be a dragon?" I nodded and you chuckled. I loved that sound. When your winter voice had drips of summer. "I don't think you'd make a very good one, Harry. You need scales, wings, height strength, claws and such. All things you lack."_

_I tongue peeped out from my mouth defiantly "Who asked you anyway, Severus? You're such a party pooper!" I exclaimed._

"_Work isn't for parties, it's for work Mr. Potter." You chortled. _

I slowly come back to reality.

'_No use in dwelling on memories.'_ I remind myself. I turn my head to the left, seeing a few huddle of students down below. _'Maybe it would be best if I left now.'_

"You're right, this is work. Speaking of work, I still have lesson plans I need to turn into McGonagall…" I nod in agreement, putting on a neutral mask as I leave for my next class. "I'll be leaving now. But you know, Professor…" I stop to give him a smile with no trace of sadness. "You liked my childish ways."

He rolls his onyx spheres. "I don't app-"

"Once." I amend.

He stays silent, his feet planted like the stone he rests his feet upon. You probably would have said something by now. You probably would have offered to help me with lesson plans. You probably wouldn't have allowed me to leave because you would have known I was hiding something.

"Once, Potter." His voice seems forced. "Once isn't present tense. It's past tense. You grow older, you face realities and you move on."

I can't help but burst into laughter.

"What are you laughing at?" He snarled demonically.

"You grow older, you face realities and move on?" I quote "That makes it sound like we're a divorced couple, Severus!" I continue to laugh at the thought. You would have joined into the laughter; you would have said something sarcastic like 'Why would I ever want to marry a brainless buffoon like yourself?' or 'Just because you're the great Harry Potter doesn't mean it makes up for you incapability to support a household.' That's what you would have done. But when I looked at this you, he had the oddest expression on his face. His face was stoic as usual but his eyes proved it was a mask. His eyes were filled with pain, regret, disappointment…but it wasn't directed toward me…like he was fighting some inner turmoil...

"Severus…" I whisper softly, aching to reach out and hug him, though even you would never allow me to do that. I pause, debating what course of action to take. The question seemed the best. The question that has been burning my insides ever since you left.

"Why are you pushing me away? I understand you don't remember certain things but-" I say, my voice frantic; frantic to grasp some sort of understanding from the little of emotions he allowed to slip through your thick brick walls.

"You don't understand anything, Potter." He says, his eyes molding over and becoming stoic as well.

"Then why can't you allow me to try to understand?"

He pauses, thinking; contemplating on how much to tell me. "It's not that I can't remember things, Potter. It's that I remember and know too much."

'_Of course you'd answer with some vague response.'_ I growl. "And you, _you_, the great Severus Snape, 'Potions Master of the century!', is complaining about knowing too much?" I laugh. This must be some sick joke. "Give me a break. Since when have you ever complained about knowing too much?"

"Since the knowledge prevented me from properly taking care of you, like I promised Lily." You mumble.

"What do you-"

"You have lessons to plan." And you're gone once again; pushed back by him. He nods to me dismissively before turning in the direction of the dungeons. I stare after your fast, billowing black figure.

"Fine." I state defiantly to the air around me. "If you won't tell me, I'll get someone else to tell me."

'_Time to visit an old coot of a friend.'_

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I'm sorry that the plot and backstory are a bit confusing, I promise to clear somethings up in the next chapter. Just be patient with me, please? Thank you very much for the read! If you have any questions, comments or concern, feel free to contact me or if you're writing a review, put it in with the review. Thank you once again!_  
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**- Rising Nightengale **


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